Chapter 8 #2
She reaches across the table and sticks her hand out for me to shake. “I’m Barbara, Arthur’s mother.”
Oh. My. God. This isn’t happening right now. My eyes bulge out of my head, and I do a poor job of hiding it.
“Nice to meet you,” I say as I recover, dropping my phone in my lap to shake her hand. I shoot Arthur a what the hell look, and he responds with an encouraging smile.
Barbara straightens her place settings, and I realize why Arthur ordered so much food. “I’ve heard so much about you, Carina, but why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
Okay, now this really is the worst date I’ve ever been on. What I’d give to be back at Murphey’s with Jay’s insults. That date was ten times better than sitting here in front of Arthur and his mom, who are both staring at me from the other side of the table like I’m at an interview. Maybe I am.
“Um . . . I’m seventeen?” I really don’t know what she wants from me. Her stare is even more unnerving than Arthur’s. She’s eyeing me like a lion eyes a steak dangling in front of its face.
She nods. “Yes. What else? How are your grades? Have you gotten into university? Do you have any extracurriculars? What’s your five-year plan?”
I wasn’t aware I needed to bring my résumé for a first date.
“I’m not entirely sure what my five-year plan is,” I say hesitantly. That earns me a frown.
“We can’t have that,” Barbara declares. I look at Arthur for help, but he’s still smiling at me, content with letting his mother grill me. She continues, “When I was your age, I . . .”
I tune her out as she launches into a story about knowing she wanted to get into real estate, nodding along like I’m paying attention. Pure shock and confusion have kept me in my seat so far, but it’s time to call for help.
Since my phone is still in my lap, without taking my eyes off Barbara, I unlock it and text Emi our code phrase while nodding along to whatever Barbara’s saying.
My phone vibrates. Yes! I’m saved! But it’s not a phone call. It’s a text. From Jay. I sneak a glance at it.
Okay, I’m intrigued. Why do you keep feeling the need to update me on your possum’s hair status?
Dammit!
Barbara has paused her story to harass a waiter for a new set of utensils, so I can’t resist sending him back a quick text.
OMG, what’s the point of having a code word if I keep sending it to you instead of Emi?
He replies immediately.
Ah, it’s that bad, huh? Did he find out about your obsessive panty to outfit matching?
I stifle a laugh and text back.
Worse! His MOM is here.
Barbara finally dismisses the waiter, so her attention is back on me. “So, Carina, where was I? Oh, right. Arthur received early acceptance to the University of Toronto. I hope you haven’t applied to a school far from there because distance really puts a strain on a relationship.”
Wow, they’re really putting a lot of stock in this “relationship” working out past this first date, which I can guarantee it’s not.
I’m still so shocked by what’s going on here I can’t help but to answer her questions instead of setting the record straight. “No, I’m not going far. I was accepted to Toronto Metropolitan University for business.”
Jay takes longer to reply this time, but then my phone vibrates, and I glance down to check it.
Guess I’m not looking so bad right now, am I? Wish you stuck around for apps?
This time I actually do laugh out loud, but I bite down quickly when Arthur and his mom send me a questioning look. I have no idea what they were saying, but obviously it didn’t warrant a laugh.
I’m about to text Jay back but then stop myself when I realize what I’m doing. We’re not friends. Why am I texting him?
“Please excuse me for a moment,” I say, standing up and straightening out my skirt.
Barbara gasps. “Carina! Why are you dressed like that?” I glance down at my jean skirt and crop top.
It’s a cute outfit, but I guess compared to them, I’m way too casually dressed.
But in my defense, they’re the ones dressed too fancy for a Mexican restaurant.
I didn’t know I was supposed to dress like this was our engagement dinner.
Before I can point out that I’m actually dressed the appropriate amount of fancy for our current surroundings, and that if anything, even I’m dressed too fancy for La Mesa, Barbara turns to Arthur and continues.
“Arthur,” she scolds, “you let her dress like a slut? You can’t have a girlfriend who thinks dressing like this is okay!”
My face heats from a mixture of embarrassment and anger, but I’m too stunned to say anything. My tongue feels twisted with all the things I want to say, but I don’t know where to start. I bite down so hard my teeth might shatter from the pressure.
“Mo-om,” Arthur whines, casting a quick glance at me then lowering his voice. “I was going to tell her on the second date.”
Yeah, that he would’ve saved for the second date. My eyes roll of their own accord, and I don’t care if they see.
“Right, well, I’ll be back,” I say, grabbing my purse and practically sprinting toward the restroom. I will not be back. I wouldn’t go back if you paid me.
I almost feel bad for Arthur, having to put up with Barbara, but then again, judging by the things he was saying before she arrived, it’s clearly too late to save him.
Once in the bathroom, the blood rushes to my head, and I’m dizzy for a moment.
I’m so overwhelmed I can barely think straight.
I should march back and tell them this isn’t going to work.
I should tell them to lay off any of Arthur’s future dates for his own sake.
I should tell them I will never name my daughter Barbara, and that that definitely isn’t a first-date conversation topic.
But the thought of that confrontation makes me even more dizzy.
The bathroom is small and empty; there are only three stalls and two sinks. I look around as if someone will pop out and offer to take my place on the date. My phone vibrates, and I realize I’m clutching it in my hand. It’s a text from Jay.
Have they kidnapped you yet? That’s the vibe I was getting from before.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. As I glance up, a small window over the sink catches my eye. No . . . can I? Am I that desperate?
Without overthinking it, I shoot Jay a text back.
Do you think it would be terrible if I crawled out the bathroom window? I’m staring at it right now, and it’s looking really tempting.
I can’t leave without walking past the table, and I really don’t want to go back there.
What are they going to say next? Demand I drop ten pounds or ask me my medical history for reproduction purposes?
At this point, I wouldn’t put it past them, and with each passing second, the window looks more and more tempting.
Am I about to do this? I think I’m about to climb through a bathroom window.
I’m about to become every bad date cliché.
I open the door to the bathroom a few inches and peer at our table.
Arthur’s holding a red velvet box in his hand, showing his mother the contents, and my heart stops.
It’s too big to be a ring box, but I’m not taking any chances if it’s for me.
Closing the door, I take a breath for courage and hoist myself up onto the counter. My phone vibrates, and I pause to read Jay’s text.
Are you serious or are you being dramatic? I can’t tell.
It’s like Jay and I are in this together now, so instead of ignoring him, I send a video of my feet on the counter, then turn the camera to show the window just within my grasp.
He texts me back immediately.
The date is THAT BAD? You’re going to hurt yourself. Go back to the table and wait five minutes. Say hi mom.
Wait five minutes for what? The date to be over? Not a chance. And “hi mom”? What is he talking about? I’m not greeting Barbara as mom. I shiver just thinking about it.
Putting my phone in my purse, I fix the strap across my shoulder and push the window open.
There’s no screen, so that makes my life easier.
Using my arms, I lift myself and scan the drop.
There’s a dumpster with a closed lid to the left of the window.
If I aim, I might be able to land on it and climb down.
“Carina?”
I freeze.
“What on earth are you doing?”
I’m almost scared to look, but I do. Barbara is standing at the door. She has a frown on her face, and her head is cocked to the side.
“Oh, um . . .” I’m trying to escape! “I thought I heard some kittens meowing in the back alley. I wanted to see if they were deserted and needed some help.” The top part of my body is half out the window, and I exaggerate looking around.
“Nope! Must’ve been my imagination.” Holding in a cringe, I hop off the counter, and my mind screams, No! I was so close to freedom!
Barbara nods like that was a perfectly reasonable excuse. “Arthur doesn’t like kittens, so it’s for the best you don’t get attached to any strays.”
Okay. This is just next-level insane. I feel like it must be Thursday night and I’m dreaming the worst date scenario to prepare for my date with Arthur, because there’s no way this is real.
“Are you ready? Let’s head back, the food is at the table,” Barbara says, holding the door open for me.
I can’t go back there. “Don’t you need to . . . ?” I trail off, pointing to a stall. Maybe I’ll have a better chance with Arthur alone. I can end the date as nicely as possible and scamper off into the night all before she returns to the table.
She shakes her head. “Oh, no. You were taking so long I wanted to make sure you weren’t talking to other boys. Come now.”
She ushers me outside, and it’s all I can do not to drag my feet.
Our table approaches, and before I can figure out how to escape, I’m standing in front of Arthur again.
He stands up, and like last time, he tucks his mother’s chair in behind her.
The food is out and smells amazing, but the idea of sitting here for a second longer makes me nauseous.